"They dressed me in silence, and called it preparation."
I could feel stares on me, but I had little desire to acknowledge anything around me. I was led up to the stage with bright lights blinding me.
The voices of strangers hummed, names and numbers, bids and comments that blurred into a haze. A few words pierced through — potential, rare, weapon — but I stood in silence, letting the dark swallow me whole.
At the edge of the stage, my gaze swept across the rows of other students. Each of us raised from the cradle not as children, but as armaments for sale. Faces I had trained beside, fought beside, now displayed one by one beneath the brilliance of those cruel lights.
My eyes found Kris. For the barest instant, her gaze locked to mine. A spark — sharp, angry, defiant — before her handler tugged her away. Then she was gone.
I was next.
They shuffled me down from the stage and into a cold chamber behind the curtains. Maids moved quickly, their hands practiced. My garments were stripped away, leaving gooseflesh rising on my arms. A box was placed before me: white, tied with a crimson ribbon.
When it was undone, a robe of purest white unfolded — its edges lined with a deep, vibrant blue.
They dressed me, brushed my pale hair smooth, and left me facing a mirror. The reflection was ghostly. My hair, so stark against the robe, gleamed like silver fire. But it wasn't beauty that struck me. It was the black collar locked around my throat, the one thing I could never turn from. The reason I could not speak with Linette. A brand. A chain.
A knock rattled the door. Voices outside, a man's among the maids. My chest tightened. The door opened.
A young man stepped in — golden-haired, shoulders straight beneath a black jacket trimmed with gold tassels. He looked at me quickly, and I braced for the hunger, the satisfaction I expected from anyone who would pay for me.
Instead, his expression softened. Relief, maybe. Or concern.
He took me in — the white silk edged in blue, my hair brushed smooth — and a faint smile broke through.
"…It suits you. The White Dragon Knights will love it."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
He didn't leer. He didn't gloat. He frowned, as though the sight of me troubled him.
"I don't care for their rules," he said, stepping closer. "I should take you now."
The maids hurried in, their voices rising. "Sir Henry! You cannot—there are processes—"
He waved them off, his tone careless, almost mocking. "Processes? While my men bleed on the frontier? I've paid what you asked. I won't waste time with paper."
The Headmaster appeared then, robes sweeping, his breath ragged from haste. "Sir Henry," he wheezed. "You dishonor yourself barging in like this. There are channels, procedures that must be followed—"
Henry's jaw flexed. His grip found my hand, firm and unyielding. "I came here for a soldier, not to dance through your ceremonies."
The Headmaster's lips thinned. His eyes slid to one of the maids. "Fetch Staples."
My stomach dropped. Staples. After the Warden's death, I had not faced him once. The thought of him entering now sent cold panic clawing at my ribs.
Moments later, he stepped through the doorway — as composed as ever, though his eyes flickered when they fell on me. Just a flicker, quickly smoothed away.
Henry gestured impatiently. "Well? Unlock it."
Staples approached slowly, his gaze unreadable. His hand brushed the collar at my throat, lingering a heartbeat too long. Then he withdrew a key.
"This," he said, his voice steady, "is not to be undone here. Not in haste, not in front of them." His eyes cut toward the Headmaster. "Give her this later, when the ground is steadier."
Henry frowned but didn't argue. He plucked the key from Staples' hand. "Fine. But she leaves with me tonight."
Staples' eyes returned to mine for just a breath longer. There was something unspoken there — warning, regret, maybe even care — before he stepped back into silence.
The Headmaster sputtered, "I will be filing a complaint with your father for this breach, Henry—"
But Henry only half-listened, already tugging me toward the door. "Send him my regards."
And just like that, the hall of lights and voices faded behind us.